


Blood and Lust

by DizzyDrea



Series: This Isn't Twilight and He Doesn't Sparkle [2]
Category: Moonlight (TV), Numb3rs
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, First Time, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Don she used to know, back at the Academy, would have gone for it and damn the consequences. This new Don was different. Fiercer, and yet gentler at the same time. More aware of his limitations, and yet not limited by them. He was a study in contrasts, and she thought that if she had a hundred lifetimes with him, she'd never truly know him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Lust

**Author's Note:**

> See the end of the story for my usual notes, as I don't particularly want to spoil anything by explaining it all here.
> 
> Originally posted on LiveJournal.
> 
> Disclaimer: Numb3rs belongs to The Barry Schindel Company, Scott Free Productions, CBS Television Studios and a lot of other people who aren't me. Moonlight is the property of Ron Koslov, Trevor Munson, Warner Bros Television, Silver Pictures Television and a lot of other people who aren't me. I'm doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~ 

They tumbled through the door together, her arms locked around his neck as he held her tightly around her waist. Their lips were fused together, tongues tangling as their bodies caught fire, want and need surging and coursing through their bodies. 

He kicked the door closed, pushing her up against it as he ravaged her mouth, his hands carding through her long hair, grinding his hips against hers, eliciting a deep groan. He smiled against her lips, finally pulling back far enough for her to gasp in some much-needed oxygen. 

He trailed his lips along her jaw, nibbling with his teeth even as he soothed with his tongue. He paused momentarily to nibble delicately at her earlobe before moving on, his lips finally arriving at their target: the soft skin over her pulse-point. 

She could feel his teeth elongate, could feel him scrape them against her skin. A trickle of blood broke free, and his tongue stroked her skin, lapping up her life's blood. She gasped at the sensation, fire igniting along her nerves, and it was as if a cold bucket of water had been poured on him. He stepped back, putting space between them that she didn't want. She could see the color return to his eyes as his fangs retracted. He didn't need to breathe, but his chest was heaving as though he'd just run a marathon. 

She tried to pull him back to her, but he resisted the pull. 

"No," he said. "Wait. I can't—I don't want to hurt you." 

Liz Warner pushed herself off the door, stepping in close. Don Eppes was many things: FBI Special Agent, gentleman, occasional cowboy—in the go-it-alone sense of the word—but he was also a vampire. A reluctant vampire. She'd been wanting this for a long time, been working them up to it, but it was just like him to put the brakes on rather than find a way around his fears. 

"You won't hurt me," she said quietly. "I trust you." 

He stepped back again, and this time she didn't chase him. 

"It's just, when a vampire has sex—" He broke off, his eyes skittering away from her before returning to lock on, daring her with his eyes. "I'll bite you, drink from you. It's—I have to, in order to climax. I just don't want to take too much." 

She melted just a little. The Don she used to know, back at the Academy, would have gone for it and damn the consequences. This new Don was different. Fiercer, and yet gentler at the same time. More aware of his limitations, and yet not limited by them. He was a study in contrasts, and she thought that if she had a hundred lifetimes with him, she'd never truly know him. 

Still, this wasn't a foolish fear. He could lose control. The temptation of her blood, pulsing just beneath the skin would be too much with his control shattered by passion. She'd learned enough about vampires to know that. But, she hadn't lied: she did trust him, as illogical as he still found it. 

"Okay," she said, leaning back against the door. 

"Okay?" he asked, frowning, every inch of him radiating confusion. 

"Oh, you're not off the hook," she said, stepping forward to lay a hand on his cheek, struck once again by how cool his skin was. 

She sauntered over to the living room, adding a little extra sway to her hips, shaking her hair out, which by now was a tangled mess. She picked up the cordless and scrolled through his contacts until she found the one she was looking for. 

Turning, she looked him straight in the eyes as she waited for her call to be answered. When she heard a voice on the other end of the line, she smiled. 

"I'd like to place an order to go." 

She saw comprehension dawn on his face—with his superior hearing, he'd probably heard the greeting on the other end of the line—and he was by her side in a blur of motion an instant later. She raised her eyebrow at him, but he just stood still beside her as she placed her order. 

"I'll need two units of fresh blood—AB-negative, if you have it—delivered Don Eppes' address. And an order of Mu Shoo Pork with a side of Chicken Fried Rice from Wong's." 

Business taken care of, she hung up the phone and turned to him, still standing beside her. 

"Just like that, huh?" 

"Just like that," she confirmed with a nod. She grabbed his belt loops and pulled him closer. "I figure if you feed first, you won't be tempted to take as much." 

He reached out and rested his hands on her hips, smiling down into her eyes. "You're really not afraid of this? Of me?" 

"Nope," she said, smiling right back. "This is who you are. I'm not gonna run away from that. So, we'll just have to find a way to work around it." 

"You're pretty smart, there, Agent Warner," he said, quirking a smile at her. He leaned in and kissed her, softly, gently, careful not to reignite their passions. 

She smiled. It was an old joke between them, and it was nice to see that he'd at least relaxed some. She didn't know how long it might last, but that was a worry for later. 

She settled on the couch, patting the space beside her in invitation. He smiled down at her, then crossed over to ignite the fireplace before returning to her side. He pulled her in close, and she watched the flames dance in the grate, casting shadows on the walls and painting the room in a warm glow. 

She'd always found it interesting—and not just a little strange—that a being so susceptible to fire would have a fireplace in his home. But she couldn't deny how romantic it was. They hadn't turned on any lights when they'd arrived—hadn't had time, and he didn't need them anyway—so the fire was really the only light in the room besides the under-counter lighting in the kitchen. 

He'd settled his arm around her, and now she covered his hand with her own, lacing their fingers together. She tipped her head, resting her cheek against his shoulder as she snuggled deeper into his embrace. 

Her eyes traveled around the room, taking in the décor, the subtle hints of the man beside her: the bookshelves in the corner, laid out in a diagonal grid, books mixed in with wine bottles; an overstuffed leather chair inviting her over for a spell; the leather couches, the glass and metal coffee table, the mix of Murano glass and antique silver glinting from shelves around the room. The place reflected the man, and she found herself marveling once again at how much she really didn't know about him. 

"What are you thinking?" he asked quietly, his breath caressing her ear, eliciting a shiver. 

"Just thinking about you." 

"Good thoughts, I hope." 

She smiled. "I was thinking that your place reminds me a lot of you. All glass and metal and leather; soft and hard; two sides of the same man." 

"Hmmm," he said. "I hadn't thought about it quite like that." 

"And the fireplace," she said, still musing. "Fire's about the only thing that can kill you." 

Don was silent for a moment. "I always loved a good fire in the fireplace. Before. Not much call for a fireplace in Los Angeles, but I always liked the metaphorical warmth it brought to a room. Now? It reminds me that I'm not immortal. I still have weaknesses, just like everyone else. They're not as obvious, but they're there." 

Liz shifted, climbing up onto his lap, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Needing blood isn't a weakness. And wanting to taste mine isn't either. I think I'd be offended if you didn't want to." 

"Yeah, but if I take too much, it could kill you," he said, running his hands over her back. His hand drifted up to caress the small scratch at her neck, evidence that his passions had gotten the better of him just a few minutes ago. "I'm not going to treat you like just another freshie. You deserve more than that." 

"I'm not asking you to treat me like a freshie, Don," she said. She cupped his cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes. "I'm asking you to treat me like a lover." He stiffened beneath her, and she raised her other hand to frame his face. "It won't be like that." 

"You can't know that." 

"I know _you_ ," she said. She sighed. "What Kim did to you was wrong. She turned you without your permission, when you were at your most vulnerable. You won't kill me and you won't turn me because you know what that feels like and you don't want anyone to ever experience what you went through." 

His eyes skittered away, and she knew that meant that he was thinking about her words. She shifted her hands, drawing his cheek against her chest, cradling him to her as she let him wrestle with his demons. She could beg, she could make all sorts of promises, but in the end, he had to want this as much as she did. And she knew he did, but she also knew he couldn't help having doubts and fears. He wouldn't be _Don_ without them. 

The doorbell rang, slicing through the quiet air. Reluctantly, Liz climbed off his lap and watched as he crossed to the door. She caught a glimpse of the delivery man, handing over a medium sized paper bag with handles. Crossing to the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as Don brought their dinner over to the counter. 

"One order of Mu Shoo Pork and some Chicken Fried Rice," he said as he set the cartons on the counter in front of her where she sat at the bar. 

She grabbed the chopsticks he'd set aside, then watched as he pulled out the units of blood, emptying one into a glass and putting the other in the refrigerated compartment behind the cabinets for later. He stayed on the other side of the kitchen island, cradling his meal in his hands as he watched her devour her food. 

"Little hungry?" he asked, smiling. 

She smiled sheepishly. "Guess I was. More than I thought, anyway. You don't mind?" 

He waved a hand. "Have at it. I may not be able to eat it anymore, but I still enjoy the smell of food." He looked down into his glass, then back at her through his lashes. "Besides, I'll get a taste later when I kiss you." 

Arousal slammed through her with his words, her whole body tingling in anticipation. He chuckled, and she knew that he'd done it on purpose. His sense of smell was extremely acute, so he'd be able to tell even if she hadn't reacted. She narrowed her eyes at him. 

"That's not fair." 

He shrugged. "Maybe not, but it got the desired result." 

"Oh, you are so going down," she said, low and sultry. 

"Give it your best shot," he said, extending his arms in open invitation. 

She shook her head, a small smile tipping her lips. It appeared he'd made his mind up, and while she was glad, she knew there was very little she could do to him if he didn't permit it. Still, she liked this playful side of him and didn't want to lose it, even when he was so far gone with pleasure that his vampire instincts took over. 

She watched as he sipped, her head tipping speculatively. 

"What?" 

"Just wondering," she said, shaking her head. 

"Wondering what?" he asked. When she made to shake her head again, he pinned her with his eyes. "Come on, give. No secrets, remember?" 

"Can you really tell the difference?" she asked. "Between AB-negative and B-positive? Between human blood types?" 

He shrugged. "Yeah, all vamps can." 

"How?" 

"Same way you can tell the difference between a Pinot Noir and a Cabernet Sauvignon," he said, taking another sip. "They're both made from grapes, but the different varietals create different flavors. And the wines take on the flavors of the region where they're grown." 

"So, different blood types contain different genetic markers and that's how you tell the difference?" 

"Yeah," he said, "something like that. Humans might not be able to tell the difference unless you do a blood test, but our superior sense of taste lets us tell them apart." 

"And what do I taste like?" she asked, injecting a note of sensual teasing into her tone. 

"You," he said, setting aside his empty glass and circling around the counter to slide up behind her and whisper in her ear, "taste like a fine Bordeaux. Like expensive chocolate. Like the best scotch money can buy." 

She shivered as she felt his hands circle her waist. She leaned back into his chest, her jacket falling open. He skirted his fingers under the hem and began deftly popping buttons on her shirt. He tugged until the white material came free from her jeans, then flicked it aside as his fingers continued their assault on her senses. 

His breath ghosted over her ear as he placed tiny kisses along the shell, working his way down to her neck where he once again began to nibble. She moaned, and this time, instead of freezing him in his tracks, he pressed into her back further. His hands ghosted along her abdomen, inching up until he reached her breasts. 

Her nipples, already erect, strained for his touch as he cupped her, kneading her flesh through the fabric of her bra. Another soft moan, and this time, he let loose his own answering sigh. 

"Upstairs," she whispered, begging with her body as she thrust her breasts into his hands. 

He chuckled, and the sound of it rippled through her body. "So demanding." 

"Please," she said, begging with her voice this time. She was hopelessly aroused, and if he didn't do something about it soon, she was fairly sure she'd simply spontaneously combust. 

Slowly, he spun her around, hooking an arm under her knees and lifting her effortlessly. He moved through the loft, taking the stairs two at a time. Once inside the bedroom, he set her back on her feet, then turned her to face the room while he licked and nibbled at her neck. 

"You have a bed?" she asked, surprised. 

The bed was large, covered in a fluffy midnight blue comforter and piled high with pillows. The bed itself was wood—ebony and polished to a shine—formed in a modern sleigh style, testament to the two sides of the man himself. The rest of the room was Spartan; just a dresser and a comfortable chair in the corner. And not a mirror to be found. But, as was typical for just about every man she knew, there was a big screen TV on the wall opposite the bed. At least she wouldn't have to go far if she wanted to watch a movie. 

She turned to face him, looping her arms around his neck and pressing in tight, drawing a groan out of him. 

"Yes, I have a bed," he said, circling his hands around her torso, caressing a line up and down her back, his fingers leaving tingling skin in their wake. 

"I thought you slept in a freezer." 

Don rolled his eyes, then lowered his lips to her neck, once again nipping at her pulse-point. "I do, on occasion, like to hang out on the bed. I rarely sleep in it, though." 

Liz closed her eyes as her body reacted to his hands, his lips, his scent—so strong and masculine—surrounding her. Each nip of his teeth against her skin sent her mind reeling back to that first time he'd tasted her. It had hurt, but he'd been weak from silver poisoning, so he hadn't really had time to prepare her. Since that night, she'd watched him feed on freshies, and the thrall—that hypnosis that all vampires used to ensnare their prey—fascinated her. Idly, she wondered if it would be like that for her. 

He peeled her jacket and shirt off of her in one smooth motion before recapturing her lips, tongue plunging into her mouth, exploring, inflaming, demanding her submission. And God help her, she gave in. She couldn't say no to him, not when he was pressed along the length of her, still nearly fully clothed even though she felt exposed under the force of his assault on her senses. 

His lips broke free, and he trailed kisses along her jaw, gently, delicately nibbling on the skin as he worked his way to her earlobe. She gasped as he took the sensitive flesh of her ear between his teeth, biting down just that much harder and drawing a sharp gasp out of her. His chuckle ghosted over her ear and rumbled through her body, sending little jolts of pleasure along her already over-stimulated nerves. 

His hands had been busy, even as he teased her with lips and tongue. They roamed over the skin of her back, creating little sparks of sensation everywhere they landed. She was torn, unsure whether she should lean forward into his kiss or back into his fingers. 

Suddenly she needed to feel his skin beneath her fingers. She tugged his shirt out of his pants, raking her nails over the cool flesh of his back, causing him to groan into her ear, sending fresh shivers down her spine. She pushed higher, circling her arms around him as she searched out his most sensitive spots. 

Sticking out her tongue, she flicked it against his earlobe at the same moment she tweaked a nipple, drawing a sharp gasp out of him. 

"Told you I'd make you pay," she purred into his ear. 

"So you did," he said, working his way back up to claim her lips once more. 

He kissed her fiercely, pouring all his pent up passion into her mouth. Nudging her backwards, he released the clasp on her bra as he edged them closer to the bed. One second she was standing, and the next she was underneath him, sans bra, and he was worshipping her skin with his lips, teeth, tongue. He was burning a brand into her, a stamp of ownership every time his lips touch her skin, and she arched up under the assault, mouth rounded into an 'o' as soundless moans escaped her. 

Working his way down, he lavished every square inch of skin with his attention. When he reached her jeans, he deftly popped the button and lowered the zipper, never letting up on his caresses but instead moving to give each fresh inch of skin the same attention as he revealed her legs by inches. Her pants and underwear went over the side of the bed, joining her shirt and jacket somewhere on the floor. 

"I hope you remember where you put those," she said breathlessly. "I'm going to need them later." 

"Later being the operative word," he said, never letting up in his exploration of her body. 

She was writhing on the bed now, breathing shallow, wave upon wave of sensation pulsing through her as he worked his way down one leg and up the other. Finally, when she didn't think she could stand another second, he reclaimed her lips as he rolled them over. When he pulled back, ever so slightly, she was on top and he was smiling like the cat that ate the canary. 

"You're wearing too many clothes," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his ear. 

She felt him shiver, and smiled smugly. She knew the power she had, the power over him. He might be in control, and he might even be the dominant one in this equation, but she had a power he couldn't control and she planned to take advantage of that for as long as she could. 

"I'm all yours," he said, ghosting his fingers over her cheek. 

"Yes," she said, leaning back and planning her own assault, "you are." 

She set about mapping his body, kissing and licking every inch of skin she could reach until he was writhing beneath her. When she reached his pulse point, she licked a stripe up his neck, then bit down, using slightly more force than she might have on a human lover. 

"God, Liz!" he cried out, his body almost levitating off the bed. 

She grinned, then moved on, nibbling at his collar bone and drawing out more groans. She teased every sensitive spot she could find, sharp cries and pleasured moans dripping from him as each new sensation washed over him. 

"So expressive," she said approvingly. 

Her lips met fabric, and she set about stripping his jeans off, an inch at a time, giving his skin the same attention he'd given hers. She was determined to make this good for him, make it last as long as she could. She didn't think this would be the last time they did this, but she wanted to prove to him that sex with her wasn't dangerous but something to be enjoyed, reveled in. Then…rinse and repeat. A lot. 

"Fuck!" he cried out when she found a particularly sensitive spot. 

"In a minute," she said, smirking up at him before returning her attention to his body. 

Finally, ever so slowly, she found her way back up his body, kissing him languidly as she settled her body over his. Without warning, he flipped them over, pressing her into the bed as he plundered her mouth, letting kiss slide into kiss. He pulled back by degrees, until he was once again nibbling at her ear. 

"Quit teasing," she growled, circling her arms around his shoulders. 

He chuckled. "You started it." 

"And I'll damned well end it, too," she said, nipping at his ear. 

He groaned. "God, do you know what that does to me?" 

"This?" she asked innocently. She kissed a line down his neck, biting into the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

He growled, pulling back to reveal his vampire face—eyes drained of color, skin gone pale, teeth elongated into fangs. She cupped his cheek with her hand. 

"What are you waiting for?" she asked softly. Tilting her head to the side, she exposed her neck to him in invitation. 

He lowered his head, licking a stripe up her neck, nibbling gently at the flesh there. 

"It's okay, Don," she whispered into his ear, cradling the back of his head in her hand. 

She spread her legs, allowing him to settle between them. She felt his erection nudging at her entrance before he slid home in one long stroke. Throwing her head back, she moaned as pleasure upon pleasure coursed through her. 

"Fuck," he said, panting for breath as he nuzzled into her neck. "Oh, God." 

Hooking a leg around his, she tilted her hips up, earning another hiss. "Move." 

He settled into an easy rhythm, moving slowly as he built the sensations one upon the next. Her heart hammered in her chest, her pulse beating loudly in her ears as he nibbled once more at the skin of her neck. He was still holding back, but she needed more. She needed all of him. Now, before the fire racing through her consumed her. 

"It's okay," she repeated into his ear. "It's okay to let go." 

He growled again, his resolve finally breaking. He shifted position, running his hands up her back until he could hook his fingers over her shoulders. Pulling back, he slammed into her, over and over, driving into her, spiking her pleasure higher and higher. She could feel her orgasm pooling low in her belly, so she planted her foot on the bed and began to drive up into him, meeting him stroke for stroke. She arched her back, exposing her neck, silently encouraging him to take the final step. 

His lips finally settled over her pulse point, his teeth sinking in without warning. She cried out, the spark of pain combined with the pleasure sending her over the edge as her orgasm exploded through her. Dimly, as if from a distance, she felt her blood pooling into his mouth, suffusing her with warmth. A few more strokes, and Don was coming as well. 

He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard. Liz ran her hands over his back, reveling in the pleasure still singing along her nerves. She knew she'd probably have a few bruises in the morning, and the puncture wounds would be kinda hard to explain until they healed. She'd be wearing her hair down for a few days at least. 

A few long minutes passed as she waited for her heart rate to calm and her breathing to slow. Finally, she felt him stretch over her as he lifted his head. His eyes had returned to normal, his fangs had retracted. A teardrop of blood—her blood, she distantly realized—clung to the corner of his lips. 

Lifting her head, she licked at the corner of his mouth before kissing him deeply, letting him chase the taste of blood into her mouth. He moaned as his tongue swept through her mouth, licking and tasting until he'd had his fill. 

When he pulled back, there was a question in his eyes. "What?" 

Instead of answering, he rolled over, pulling her into his side as he settled into the mattress. She pushed up, settling her hand over his heart. Looking deep into his eyes, she asked again. 

"What is it?" 

His hand cupped her cheek, and he tugged her down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. "No one's ever done that for me before." 

She quirked an eyebrow. "Done what?" 

His gaze shifted to the other side of the room. "Licked the—the blood from my face." 

"Kim never did?" she asked, frowning. 

She knew it was stupid, mentioning his ex while they were still recovering from the most mind-blowing orgasm she'd ever had, but he'd seemed so lost, and if she could bring him some comfort, she had to at least try. 

He closed his eyes tight at the mention of his ex, shaking his head minutely. "No. She was never what you'd call particularly affectionate. After. Not even when she turned me." 

What he didn't say, what she heard without the words, was that he'd never let himself get close enough to anyone else—vampire or human—to be rejected like that again. She settled down at his side, hugging him to her as she slipped a leg between his. 

"Well, it is my blood," she said in what she hoped was a casual way. "And besides, she doesn't know what she's missing." 

He chuckled, and she was glad to hear it. She'd worried that he might regret what they'd done. Part of him, she knew, had to still be questioning the wisdom of getting involved with a human, but he hadn't kicked her out yet, so she counted that as a victory. 

"Thank you," he said after a while. 

"For what?" 

"For this," he said. He hugged her closer, dropping a kiss onto her head. "For not being afraid of me. For sticking with me." 

She pushed up again, wanting to look at him when she said what she was going to say. "You're still the same man I knew at the FBI Academy. Still just as honorable, just as dedicated, just as patient and kind as I remember you being. Becoming a vampire hasn't changed you as much as you think. I wouldn't be here otherwise." 

Once again he cupped her cheek, pulling her down into a lingering kiss. One kiss bled into the next, which bled into the next. Soon enough, she could feel the evidence of his arousal against her leg. 

She pulled back and quirked an eyebrow. 

He shrugged, giving her that devil-may-care smile she remembered so well from their days at Quantico. "Vampires have a lot of stamina. _A lot_ of stamina." 

"Lucky me," she said, low and sultry as she let her hand drift down his body, playing whatever sensitive spots she could reach like a fine violin. 

He arched into her touch, moaning softly as she revisited certain spots over and over. 

"I think you're going to kill me," he whispered, nearly breathless with passion. 

She bent down and nibbled on his ear, her breath ghosting over his skin. "If you weren't already undead, I'd say 'what a way to go'." 

He laughed outright at that, and quick as a flash, she was on her back and he was returning the favor. Liz reveled in the sensations singing through her, marveling at how he knew where to find her most sensitive spots, remembering the map of her body he'd made just a short while ago. 

Questions about the future could wait, she decided. She had more pressing matters in the here and now. 

~Finis

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote vampire sex! And while that may not seem like such a big deal to you, it's a big deal to me. Vampires are one of my kinks, so this story is something of a labor of love for me.
> 
> This story is a missing scene of a sort from a longer fic that I plan to write in the future. As that story will likely be PG-13, this scene simply didn't fit. So, I decided to go ahead and write it, and release it independently. And since it was complete, I decided not to wait until I'd finished the other story.
> 
> I struggled with this story a lot. A lot, a lot. I rewrote it three times. I even shifted to a different verb tense in order to get the right mood. It was supposed to be porn without plot, but somehow my muse sneaked a tiny little plot in when I wasn't looking. /glares at muse/ I'm finally happy with it, though, so I figured I'd better post it before I get the notion to rewrite it again.


End file.
